


The Final Decision

by Writerlia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Love Confessions, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Feels, Sherlock Feels, Sherlock Feels Guilty, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:33:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28994514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writerlia/pseuds/Writerlia
Summary: Sherlock chooses John, but at what cost?Takes place during The Final Problem when Eurus makes Sherlock choose between Mycroft and John. What if it had ended differently?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 41





	The Final Decision

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic! I've been a fanfic reader for years but never written one. Hope you like it!

“Choose, Sherlock,” Eurus’s voice echoed from the speakers. “Your brother, or your best friend.”

Sherlock held the gun in his hand as he looked from Mycroft to John. He had to shoot one. Those were the rules Eurus made. But the rules were wrong.

“And what if I don’t?” Sherlock replied. “What if I don’t choose them. What if I choose me?” He brought the gun up under his chin, finger twitching on the trigger.

“That’s clever, brother. But not clever enough,” Eurus teased. “If you’re dead, how can you ensure they won’t die soon after? Although I suppose it is quite like you to take the easy way out.”

Stupid, Sherlock thought. He should have predicted this. He wasn’t thinking clearly, not when so many things had been left unsaid. How could he let John die without knowing Sherlock loved him? How could Sherlock kill John when he loved him? Then, the question of his brother. Mycroft looked after him. Even though he was annoying most of the time, he was the only one who stayed unconditionally.

Sherlock slowly removed the gun from under his chin and extended his arm straight out. Then, he moved the gun in John’s direction. He couldn’t meet his eye, but he saw the shorter man’s surprise through his peripheral vision. Sherlock didn’t want to face John, but he needed to point the gun at someone to buy time. John was more used to being under gunpoint. He could handle it.

“You made the right choice, Sherlock,” Mycroft’s voice sounded oddly like Eurus’s when he said this. “We are family, after all.”

Sherlock’s hands shook as he kept the gun on John. He looked at neither of them.

“Well go on, shoot him!” Mycroft kept speaking.

“Stop it,” Sherlock spat, “Just stop. I know what you’re doing.”

“What?”

“You’re making it easier to shoot you. Stop it.”

Mycroft resigned. He looked at his brother with a softened expression now.

“He’s right,” John said. “He’s your brother. You should shoot me.”

Eurus cleared her throat. “Tick tock Sherlock! Time to choose.”

A clock appeared on the screen. It began counting from 10…

9…  
8…  
7…

Sherlock still kept the gun on John. 

6…  
5…

John closed his eyes and braced himself.

4…  
3…

“I love you, Sherlock,” John whispered. “And I forgive you.”

2…  
1…

*click*

John opened his eyes. Sherlock was facing Mycroft, trigger pulled under his trembling finger. He had switched at the last second. But the gun never fired.

“Hm, it seems I forgot to put bullets in the gun!” Eurus laughed evilly. “What’s worse, knowing you would have killed your brother, or your brother knowing you would have killed him?”

The three stood frozen. As Sherlock lowered the empty gun, a realization set in amongst them. Sherlock didn’t want Mycroft to know he was going to die. He pretended to choose John as a trick. This was Sherlock’s version of mercy. He sank to his knees, dropping the gun.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry,” Sherlock blubbered.

“Jim Moriarty thought you would choose him,” Eurus continued. “Holmes killing Holmes, he said.”

Sherlock was still processing what had happened. He shot Mycroft, or rather, didn’t. No, what happened before that? John.

John said he loved Sherlock, that he forgave him. It seemed like the group remembered this at once because suddenly all eyes were on John. The blonde man’s face reddened.

“Well, that’s out now I guess,” John mumbled.

Sherlock finally dared to look up at his brother. He expected Mycroft to be angry. He did try to kill him, after all. But Mycroft gazed upon his younger brother with a kindness. He knew. Of course, he knew.

“That’s what I would have chosen for you, brother mine,” Mycroft said. “You need him far more than me.”

“This has been rather entertaining, boys. I need to- Oh!” Eurus was interrupted mid-sentence. On the screen, they could see the SWAT team arrived at the prison. They were arresting Eurus.

The concrete doors slid open with a BEEP! They were free from the Eurus and her insanity, but the damage had already been done.

Sherlock remained crouched on the cold floor, tears spilling more rapidly now.

I killed Mycroft. I killed Mycroft. I killed Mycr- 

John rested a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, interrupting his racing mind. “It’s over,” he said.

***

In a whirlwind of armored men and shock blankets, Sherlock somehow found himself back at Baker Street. He looked down at his socked feet, up to where his hands rested on the arms of his chair, finally settling his gaze on John in the kitchen. 

“Cuppa tea?” John asked.

“Please.”

Sherlock’s eyes darted around. He tried collecting his thoughts, but couldn’t quite grasp them. It was like trying to keep water from slipping between his fingers. He eventually gave up and took the teacup from John.

The doctor must have noticed Sherlock’s distress. “Memory loss is a side effect of trauma,” he suggested kindly.

“I know that,” Sherlock snapped.

“So is irritability,” John replied.

Sherlock sighed. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, love.” 

Love? The term simultaneously thrilled and terrified Sherlock. He had wanted to be with John for so long but never knew how to tell him. Hell, he even got a confession. But, the circumstances were life and death. Would John have said the same thing without the gun pointed in his face?

“I… John, I should tell you... I don’t really know how to say this, um,” Sherlock stumbled over his words. John looked at him patiently. He smiled like he knew what was coming. “I love you,” Sherlock finally spat it out.

John’s smile turned into a full-blown grin. “I love you too, Sherlock.”

John sat his cup down on the side table and leaned forward. Sherlock mirrored John, not knowing what else to do. John reached out and with a single finger traced Sherlock’s jawline. He tilted Sherlock’s face down to meet his in a soft kiss. It was a dream of dark curls and blond stubble. When the two pulled back, they rested their foreheads together. 

“We’re safe now,” John whispered.

“Safe,” Sherlock echoed.

And they were. Moriarty was dead. Eurus was locked up. They were finally free to love each other. Life wasn’t perfect, but for the first time, it felt right.


End file.
